


Blue Christmas

by PenguinofProse



Series: Penguin's festive fics [5]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: A comedy of errors, F/M, Gift Giving, Gift mix up, Gifts, Jealous Bellamy, festive fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:42:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28014903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenguinofProse/pseuds/PenguinofProse
Summary: In which Bellamy has a miserable Christmas... until he doesn't.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Series: Penguin's festive fics [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2024797
Comments: 23
Kudos: 156





	Blue Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OnlyZouzou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlyZouzou/gifts).



> Here's a fic set in some post-S1 alternate reality where the Ark never comes down and Bellamy becomes besties with Finn... more or less. Huge thanks to Zou for the prompt and to Stormkpr for betaing. Happy reading!

Bellamy likes sharing a tent with Finn. They've become really good friends since that incident when they escaped from the burning dropship and then from grounder captivity. An experience like that will strengthen a sense of camaraderie, it turns out. And Bellamy has to admit he finds the younger guy easier to get on with since he stopped pestering Clarke all the damn time, started to be a bit more subtle in his attempts to show his remorse and win her back. Not because he himself has a crush on Clarke or anything – just because he thinks she deserves to go through life unbothered by silly young men with floppy hair.

OK. So maybe he does have an enormous crush on her.

But the point is, he and Finn are friends now, Finn's past with Clarke and Raven notwithstanding. And Bellamy likes sharing a tent with Finn, a solid three-hundred-and-sixty-four days of the year.

But today is Christmas Day, and Bellamy wishes he lived literally anywhere else in the world.

Maybe there's space for him to move in with Miller and Stirling? Or maybe he should go back to living alone and inviting a succession of bedmates over each and every night? That's a sensible and proportionate response, right?

That's a totally rational way to respond to the situation.

The problem is, Finn has just opened his Christmas gift from Clarke. It's a star map, beautifully drawn in charcoal on a slat of wood, with the names of the constellations carefully written in place and everything.

Bellamy has literally never been so jealous in his entire life.

He ought to be used to jealousy, by now. He's known enough of it in his lifetime. As a kid he was jealous of the other children in his class, who had enough food or money, who didn't live in fear of their loved ones being arrested. He was jealous of those who could take friends or boyfriends or girlfriends home, jealous of those who received birthday gifts. He thinks that's maybe why he was such an ass when they first landed here – he was making the most of what he couldn't have, before.

But this is a new kind of jealousy, sharp and raw. Clarke has given a beautiful, heartfelt gift to someone that isn't him. She's even remembered the names of the constellations, for goodness' sake. Names _he_ told her, one night last month, as they sat outside and shared a blanket and he waffled on about Greek myths for far too long. And now she's using the names he taught her that night to woo someone else?

"Isn't it beautiful?" Finn muses, turning the map in his hands, looking closely at every detail. "Do you think this means something, Bellamy? Do you think she's trying to say she'll give me another chance? We did watch the stars together this one time -"

"Great." Bellamy bites out, because that is just great, isn't it? Of course Clarke has been watching stars with everyone. So he's no one special, and Finn has a rather more personal gift, and that's just _great_.

"What did she give you?" Finn asks, all eagerness. Sometimes Bellamy could swear his friend is like an ill-trained overenthusiastic puppy.

"A knife." He says shortly. It's the least personal gift he can imagine. He knows full well that Clarke didn't even make it herself – he's seen Monroe fashion them and knows that she trades them with half the camp.

"It's a good knife." Finn offers, unsolicited, leaning closer. "Yeah, that's a good gift. Useful."

Bellamy snorts. He doesn't want a _useful_ gift. He wants something meaningful, personal, full of heart.

Something like a map of the stars and the stories they tell.

…...

Bellamy stomps around the camp for a while, helping with the preparations for their Christmas meal and hoping to work himself into a better mood.

It's not Finn's fault. He realises that pretty early on. He really does value Finn's friendship – he's been a reliable friend since the dropship battle, and he seems to have become rather steadier in himself, too. Bellamy has to admit that he'd rather Clarke chose Finn than pretty much anyone else, except maybe Raven. He'll be good to her – he's learnt from his mistakes.

It's not Clarke's fault, either. She can't help feeling the way she feels. If she wants to give Finn a personal gift and a second chance, that's her right. And sure, Bellamy is feeling a pretty strong urge to go throw Clarke's Christmas gift into the river like he once did with Raven's cursed radio. But he's not going to act on that impulse, because it would be cruel and petty.

And besides, he spent a lot of time collecting all the parts for Clarke's Christmas gift, and he knows that if he did throw it in the river he'd only regret it later. Heavens, he can just see himself thinking better of it and desperately scouring the shore for stray pieces to collect up all over again.

He's got Clarke an art set, see. He's pulled together all sorts of bits and pieces – a couple of notebooks from the supply depot, charcoal fragments of all shapes and sizes, even a stick of white chalk. He traded a fur with Lincoln for some pigments the grounders use to mix paint, whittled her a paint palette from wood, even fashioned a small blade for sharpening the pencils he knows Finn likes to give her.

Ugh. Finn. He's literally enabling her to use Finn's little love tokens.

No. He's not angry at Finn. He's angry at the situation, and that's all there is to it.

A few more brisk laps of the camp, a couple more hours' work, and he might even believe that.

…...

He's still in a sour mood when Clarke corners him, several hours later. She has the look of someone who has been searching for him for quite some time.

He suspects he has the look of someone who has been avoiding her for just as long.

"Clarke. Hey. How are you? Merry Christmas." He babbles, too brightly.

She frowns. "I'm OK. How are you? Did you and Finn get your gifts? I left them on your beds this -"

"Yes thanks." He interrupts her, overly cheery. "Lovely gifts. Thanks. Do you want yours now?"

She brightens noticeably at that. "You got me something? You didn't have to."

"Of course I did." He swallows thickly. "We're friends, right? That's what friends do."

She doesn't look so impressed with him, now. She's frowning even harder than before, and he wonders what he did wrong. Are they _not_ friends any more? Is it really so bad as all that? She's noticed him staring stupidly at her and is trying to tell him to shove off? Is that what the impersonal knife was about?

No. No, he can't believe that. She always looks happy to see him, as far as he can tell – or rather, she has up until today.

He walks towards his tent in heavy silence, Clarke following close behind. On arrival, he doesn't bother to invite her in – it's easy to see in her eyes that she's not in the mood for one of their long personal chats. So he leaves her standing there while he ducks inside and returns, clutching the precious makeshift art set in his hands.

"Here." He holds it out, an assortment of precious treasures wrapped in a repurposed waterskin.

She takes it from him, surprisingly tentative. She peers inside, starts taking out objects one at at time.

"A notepad? A _second_ notepad? And – and are these _paints_? This is – wow, Bellamy. This is a lot."

Yes. It is a lot, actually – a hell of a lot more than one stupid knife.

"It's no problem. I'm just happy you like it."

She grins up at him, apparently in a somewhat better mood. "What did you think of the star map?" She asks.

He gulps. She's surely not asking that to be cruel. Is she maybe asking for Finn's reaction, a clue as to whether her suit has been successful? Or does she genuinely want to know what he thinks of it?

"I think it's really beautiful." He admits, totally honest. "I've only ever seen you do portraits before so it was – yeah. Really special."

She beams at him, for that. She looks absolutely joyful, clutching her bag of art supplies in one hand as she pulls him in for a hug with the other arm.

Well, now. This is a bit confusing. Is she trying to push him away with impersonal gifts, or draw him closer with heartfelt hugs? It's not at all clear to him.

She pulls back from the hug before he can figure it out, presses on to a new question with her usual briskness. "Was Finn OK about the knife? I saw him coming over to talk to me earlier and I have to admit I ran away. Was that wrong of me?"

Bellamy clears his throat with infinite care. "The knife?"

"Yeah. I got him a knife for Christmas. I was worried he might be – you know – a bit jealous of the star map."

Bellamy laughs. He can't help it. After a whole day of jealous tension, of hiding his heartbreak, he laughs from sheer relief. He should have known something like this had happened, he chastises himself even as he chuckles. He should have known that all these smiles with Clarke, all the time they've been spending together, meant something. And he should have known she wouldn't push Finn away so carefully only to invite him back into her life now.

Clarke isn't laughing, of course. She's frowning at him, poking him in the ribs.

"Don't be unkind. I thought you guys were friends now."

"I'm not laughing at _him_." Bellamy clarifies. "I just – there's been a mistake, Clarke. You said you put the gifts on our beds?"

"Yeah. You're nearest the door, because you don't feel the cold so much." She trots out, as if she has memorised this piece of information.

"We used to be that way round. We switched the other week when I got that flu. Never switched back." Bellamy explains, still biting back a laugh.

"So you're saying -"

"I'm saying we got the gifts the wrong way round. Finn thinks you gave him the star map."

There's a beat of silence. Clarke looks up at him, that thoughtful half-smiling frown of hers on her lips.

"And you've spent the whole day hurt and jealous and avoiding me because you thought I gave you a crappy knife." She says, matter of fact, looking him right in the eye.

"No. It's a good knife." He corrects her. "I've spent the whole day hurt and jealous and avoiding you because I thought you gave Finn _my_ star map."

"Yet you're still calling it yours." She bounces back at him, grinning.

"Obviously it's mine. It's got all the names I taught you on it and everything. I couldn't figure out why you'd give him something that was so obviously the perfect gift for me. It felt like you were _trying_ to hurt me."

She doesn't banter back at him, for that. Rather she sets her art set carefully on the ground then steps closer, rests her hands at his hips. He thinks he might have forgotten how to breathe. He shares personal space with Clarke often, as part of a hug, or sitting closely next to each other. But he's never known her to get right up in his face quite like this.

"You remember that night we sat up together and you told me all about the stories in the stars?" She asks, soft, searching his eyes. "I started it that night. Kept drawing till dawn, actually. And I've been looking forward to giving it to you ever since. I thought you were going to run straight out of your tent this morning and find me but – well. Let's just say this mix up made me feel pretty insecure, too."

He gathers his courage. He was right about the star map being the perfect gift for him, it turns out. So he backs himself to be right now, too – right about what Clarke means, by standing so close with her hands on his hips like this.

He bends to kiss her, presses his lips gently against hers. She sighs softly into his mouth, grips her hands tighter at his hips, holds him a little closer.

And then she gets on with it. She gets on with being totally and utterly Clarke, kissing him urgently, confidently, even grasping at his hand and tugging it until he takes her hint and sets it at her waist. He matches her, as he always has and always will, kissing her deeply, pulling her close up against his front.

He breaks away first, though. He doesn't want Finn to catch them making out right outside the tent.

"We should stop there for now. I don't want Finn to find out like this." He explains softly.

Clarke raises her brows. "You didn't seem so worried about your friendship a couple of minutes ago."

"A couple of minutes ago I thought you were giving him my Christmas present." He points out, trying for a teasing tone, but the jealous insecurity of the day is still too fresh to pull it off.

"Sorry about that." She offers, sounding uncharacterstically meek.

He simply grins at her. It doesn't seem to matter any more. And yeah, sure, it's going to take a little longer for him to truly forget how he felt this morning. But he's ending the day with Clarke in his arms, and that's more important than a star map – even a very beautiful, personal star map.

"We could head back to my tent?" She suggests. "There are advantages to living alone."

Yeah. He can see that. And he's glad he lives with his good friend Finn, really he is.

But he would much rather share a tent with Clarke, tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
